


From the President's Desk (Fully Beta'd Version)

by ahhhnorealnamesallowed



Series: Zukka Businessmen AU [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, I don't think I forgot any tags, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, businessmen AU, it's the beta'd version I might have mentioned once...., wow I forgot how hardcore my first time writing porn turned out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9587300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhhnorealnamesallowed/pseuds/ahhhnorealnamesallowed
Summary: Zuko needs to relieve some tension before his father's sentencing. Sokka is more than willing to help.(This is the fully beta'd version of a previously posted fic; there will be minor differences in some dialogue and some of the sex scenes, but it is, overall, the same as the original.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, after an almost 9-month gestation period, I am back with the fully edited, completely beta'd version of the first piece of porn I ever wrote. And it is still filthy!  
> Many thanks to Carmensandyeggo ([tumblr](carmensandyeggo.tumblr.com)) for being a wonderful beta and improving my sex scenes and tenses!  
> If you read the original (it's still here, in its entirety), you might note a few changes in dialogue and some of the descriptions of the sex--but mostly it clears up any weirdness associated with Zuko's shirt. If you haven't read the original, enjoy some dirty porn with feelings!

Zuko wasn’t really sure how it had come to this.

There he was, bent over his desk, wrists bound with his own belt, gagged with his own tie, wishing he were pressed against the other side of the desk—any other side; just so he had something more than empty space to rub against his aching erection.  His pants and boxers were gathered at his feet; along with his very nice—very expensive—suit. But none of that mattered. All that mattered were the warms hands on his hips; exploring his chest, brushing over his mouth, and rubbing his neck. That voice—that hot and heavy voice whispering in his ear made Zuko not care about the wrinkles that have surly settled in by now.

Zuko really couldn’t remember if he had been hesitant in the first place.  There was no room for thought amid the sensation, the firm grip at his hip, the slight sting of his nipple being pinched, the warm breath and wet mouth all over him, the ache of his hard and dripping cock, the pulse at his entrance as it clenched in earnest.  And the pleasure.  He was swimming in it. It had overtaken him entirely.  But even as pleasure consumed him, he was left _wanting_.  No hands stroked him, even as he shifted back and forth, in search for some friction to help end the stifling need; even with his ass untouched, he was left to hump the air above the side of his desk, trying to reach friction on both sides.

It was his desk, his office, his _executive suite_ , his company.  And yet, here he was, unable even to beg for the touches he wanted— _needed_.  This was an entirely new experience for him, to be this pleased and pitiful all at once.  Sometimes he would beg and plead for it in bed. Sometimes he would be the one to make Sokka beg, but never before had he been unable to even do that. 

Tears of frustration burned his eyes, a high whine escaping the confines of his gagged mouth as his hips jerked in quick, sporadic motions.  The hand teasing his nipple, the teeth biting his nape, stilled; the hand at his hip slid slowly up his side, rubbing gentle circles over his ribs.  Zuko began to relax again, coming down from the never-ending high. Whispered words of praise and comfort eased his incredible tension.

“This was your idea, Zuko,” Sokka’s voice, rough with lust and worry, murmured against the shell of his ear.  “We can stop if you want.  Do you understand?  Nod if you understand, Zuko.”

Zuko nodded, he understood.  Yes, this had been his idea, that’s right.  By this evening his father would be sentenced.  The office, the desk, the company—Zuko had inherited it all earlier this year, usurping his father and his younger sister to become owner and President of the firm.  He was chosen to lead the business, and his uncle had made sure he was capable, taking him in years ago when he was thrown out of his own home by his own father.  Ozai had hated him ever since he could remember, and Zuko had the scars to prove it.  It had almost felt like a blessing when he had been beaten and burnt and chased from his home due to his dalliances.  Almost.  But Zuko had been so helpless for so many years, and now his father was facing sentencing for corporate reasons—not personal. Never _personal_ , always business. And if he was released, even though the company now belonged solely to Zuko, he was certain that any modicum of the control, of the freedom, that he had gained in the past decade or so would crumble, and he would be helpless once again.  More helpless than ever before.  He had finally reached his goal, and his salvation, and now he had Sokka. And god… Sokka was so _good_.

So Zuko had given his power away.  He gave everything to Sokka: his voice, his mobility, his office, his desk, his suit, every single ounce of power and control over himself and his surroundings belonged to Sokka.  Sokka could do as he pleased.  That was what Zuko had done, intending to find pleasure in this loss of control, to surround himself with a world under the control of an outside force—not his own acute expectations and practices, confined and conformed by his demanding and abusive father; the brusque, ordering voice ever-present in the back of his mind even now, years after leaving home. Knowing now that nothing bad or terrible or awful or humiliating could happen was gratifying.  Sokka would never hurt him, never break him, and never destroy everything he holds dear.

“Zuko, do you want me to stop?  Nod if you do want me to stop—and you’d better be honest, Zuko, or I swear to God—” Sokka paused.  Zuko shook his head frantically.  “Alright, we’ll keep going, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…”  Sokka’s voice lowered dangerously as he bit the lobe of Zuko’s ear.

Zuko keened at the sudden pain.  His hips, which had slowed while Sokka had questioned him, began to thrust with sudden abandon, and his dick once again searching for the friction it so desperately needed.  Sokka chuckled against his neck, licking and biting his way down to Zuko’s left shoulder, where he paused.  Hot, damp breaths ghosted across Zuko’s overheated and sweaty skin, making him shudder. Even as his hips gyrated and pumped, his legs shook slightly, his chest heaved with pants, sighs, and whines that were never quite vocalized.  Then, suddenly and gently, Sokka pulled Zuko’s arms back with enough force to raise his upper body from where it was pressed almost flat to the desk.  Zuko was so pliant that he seemed to move his shoulders towards Sokka’s chest as if drawn there by an invisible force, rather than Sokka’s own strength.

Zuko groaned as soon as he felt his shoulders hit Sokka’s chest.  The small plastic buttons of Sokka’s shirt pressed against Zuko’s spine, causing him to shiver slightly.  The trembling of his body increased when he realized that he could feel Sokka, pressed hot and hard, against his hands.  He wanted to reach farther above where his hands were pressed to pull the belt off Sokka’s waist, and tug his pants down his thighs so he could feel Sokka’s dick in his hands, against his skin. His fingers twitched at the very thought.  Zuko wanted that heat inside him, and the moment he felt the slight brush of Sokka’s clothed erection against his hands he was practically crying again.

Zuko tried to stand himself up, wishing his legs weren’t shaking, weren’t entirely out of his control, that they could support him; but they couldn’t do more than tremble. How he had remained standing and was still upright, was a mystery to him.  Sokka shifted behind him, causing him to press closer into Zuko’s hands, sinking into Zuko’s ass.  Then Sokka thrust forward.  Zuko was able to catch the press of Sokka’s clothed cock in his palms, and the feel of it, the heat, the hard, the promise of dampness beneath the layers of material—Zuko’s mind spiralled at the sensation, and he cried out, his shout hardly muffled by the tie between his lips.

“Now Zuko,” Sokka spoke against the hollow under his ear, at the base of his jaw.  “You must be quiet, or your secretary will hear.  Do you want to give her a show?”  Sokka thrust against Zuko again, grinding harder into the grabbing hands.  Zuko whimpered faintly.  This pleasure was only for Sokka and himself.  “That’s more like it. You’re such a good boy Zuko. You deserve a reward.”  Zuko’s breathing quickened, though he wasn’t sure how that was possible—it had already felt like he wasn’t breathing at all.

Sokka kissed Zuko’s neck once before stepping away from the bound and half-naked President.  Zuko whined again, high and needy, turning his head to try and follow Sokka’s movements.  But even as his head rotated, his body sagged as his weak and trembling legs gave way; unable to properly support his weight without the desk beneath him or Sokka behind him.  Rather than stumble towards the desk three or four steps away, Zuko lowered himself to the floor.  Or, more accurately, Zuko dropped to the floor, landing with a soft _thump_ as his ass hit the hardwood, with his legs sprawled in front of him.  He was lucky he didn’t topple sideways, because then Sokka would have teased him and he wouldn’t have been able to right himself alone.  Tai chi just didn’t prepare you for that kind of movement, no matter flexible it kept him.

Finally seated, Zuko swivelled his head, searching for a sign of his lover.  It took a moment, given his muddled thoughts and distorted range of vision, but Zuko found him.  Zuko’s view of the man almost completely blocked by the desk in front of him however, he could see Sokka standing beside the entrance to his surrendered territory.

Sokka smirked when he caught Zuko’s eyes.  “I promised you a reward, didn’t I, Mr. President?  What would you like?”  Sokka remained by the door, bright blue eyes darkened with passion.  He made a show of unbuckling his belt, painfully slowly, watching as Zuko bounced on his ass, trying to see everything over the edge of the desk that encroached on his view.  “Can’t see?”  Sokka’s voice was his usual teasing sarcasm, but his eyes were serious and calculating.  Zuko shivered to feel those eyes on him—those were the eyes of Sokka when he was working: total concentration and focus, his mind calculating risks and strategies and the best course of action to get what he wanted.  And now those eyes, that single-minded attention, was set on Zuko, and Zuko had never felt more desired, had never needed anyone or anything as much as he needed Sokka _right this goddamn minute_.

Zuko whined, high and pitiful, his mouth fighting against the tie gagging him.  He couldn’t maintain his bouncing, his thighs trembling with the strain of his burning desire and _need_.  He needed Sokka to touch him, to feel him, to enter him.  The thought of that alone, the feel of Sokka’s cock, hot and hard and dripping pre-cum for Zuko, the feel of the head rubbing against the cleft of his ass, against his entrance, pushing in and filling him—Zuko felt overwhelmed from the  idea and the memories that had compounded themselves into something almost physical with his unquenched want.  He attempted to pull himself to his knees in hopes of being able to flop forward and hump the floor to feel something real again, rather than phantom touches and that heavy gaze being levelled at him from across the room.

As Zuko attempts to raise himself to his knees, having been slowly building his momentum, Sokka appears before him.  The darker man looks down on Zuko, his belt in one hand, his other steadying Zuko’s shoulder and holding him to the floor.  Zuko’s bouncing stutters to a halt, his wide, wet eyes staring hungrily at Sokka—at his face, his chest, the bulge in his pants _right in front of Zuko’s face_.  A shuddering breath leaves Zuko as he stares at Sokka’s straining suit pants; the tightness enhancing the outline of Sokka’s erection reveals its size and utter _hardness_.  Zuko moves to press his face against it, his mouth opening to take it in, heedless of the gag and the layers upon layers separating him from his goal.  Before he can do more than lean a few centimetres, Sokka’s hand, already keeping him grounded, holds him away.

“I promised you a reward, remember?”  Sokka’s voice remains teasing, but Zuko can’t see the look in his eyes, still glued to his goal.  “Is sucking my dick really what you want?”  As if Sokka needs to ask, as if Sokka wants anything besides Zuko’s hot mouth and throat surrounding him, always so wet and soft.  Zuko nods frantically anyway, hardly understanding the words, too focused on the fact that nodding will let him feel Sokka, _taste_ Sokka, be closer to Sokka than a single restraining palm.  Zuko can hear Sokka laugh, before he steps away from Zuko, _again_.  Zuko moans, already regretting the loss, already certain he will be waiting forever to come, even as he climbs higher and higher with every one of Sokka’s taunts.  He prepares himself to fall, anything to get Sokka to touch him, when the other man reappears, directly before him once more, the belt now gone from his hand.  This fact barely registers in Zuko’s mind before Sokka’s hands are on his shoulders.

Sokka runs his hands up Zuko’s shoulders, across his collarbones, to the collar of his shirt.  Zuko starts when Sokka begins to undo the few remaining buttons of the shirt  The once formal dress shirt bunches against the belt-bound wrists, becoming useless fabric.

But now, finally, Sokka is touching him.  Or, he should be.  Zuko’s eyes follow the trail of Sokka’s fingers up his thighs, up his stomach, up the insides of his ribs, brushing over his nipples—but Sokka’s touch is so soft, so feather light, that even in his oversensitive and frenzied state, Zuko _can’t feel it_.  Seeing the touch, the closeness of Sokka’s fingers, but not feeling it, almost drives him over the edge, almost makes him want to scream or cry— _something_ ; he’d do anything to get Sokka to touch him properly at this moment. Just as he is about to let his body make the decision for him, not entire certain what exactly it would be or entail, he feels Sokka’s touch.  It is firmer than the ghosting trail up his body: Sokka is pressing his fingers against Zuko’s neck, dragging his hands up to Zuko’s face.  Warm thumbs rub against the apple of Zuko’s cheeks, without regard for the scar marring one side of his face—and Zuko is too far gone, too relieved to finally feel Sokka’s warm skin and pressure after what felt like an eternity without it.  Zuko doesn’t even register that Sokka is touching his scar, or that he ever _has_ a scar—all he has is Sokka.

Sokka lowers his hands, his thumbs pressing against the damp tie that is held between Zuko’s lips.  He runs them over Zuko’s lips, the touch hidden behind the sensation of wet silk and restraint, and follows the red and gold pattern to the tie at the back of Zuko’s head, almost lost in the smooth black hair.  Sokka slowly, oh so slowly, carefully and gently, undoes the knot; removing the gag from Zuko’s mouth.  He holds it away from both of them, clutched between two fingers as if it were dirty, which, in a way, it was.  Sokka eyes the silk, the designer name on the fabric, and shakes his head in mock sympathy.  “You did well,” he murmurs, either to Zuko or the tie or both—it didn’t matter either way.  He tossed the tie towards the desk, Zuko’s eyes following his every movement, unable to completely grasp or comprehend what was happening; only aware that Sokka would soon be focusing on him again.  He whined, high in his throat, hoping to return Sokka’s hands to his body, gain the much needed pleasure of Sokka’s touch, warmth, scent, and taste.

“You aren’t gagged anymore, Zuko,” Sokka chides, looking down at him. Sokka had one hand trailing just above the waist of his pants while the other braced Zuko’s shoulder. Though the contact provided sufficient attention, it didn’t matter. Sokka’s eyes, dilated and full of hunger were targeted on Zuko. Sokka’s fingers slid down teasingly over his shirt. Zuko followed his fingers brush over his hard stomach, tracing his happy trail down to his lower abdomen; fingers searching to undo his button and zipper. Zuko couldn’t keep from shivering and opening his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue with his need to have Sokka in him now.  “Use your word,” Sokka commands, watching him.  “What do you want as a reward, Zuko?  Do you want to suck me off, Mr. President?”  Sokka raises a mocking eyebrow.  This is what Zuko wanted. He couldn’t help but wonder why Sokka questioned his desires. Eyes fixed on the cloth covered bulge, Zuko felt the urge to feel the heavy, salty taste of Sokka’s cock on his tongue. Sokka reached out to grab Zuko’s hair in a firm, yet gentle, hold to gain his attention.  “Words,” he reminds the man on the floor.

“Please,” Zuko gasps, eyes still fixated Sokka’s crotch, “please please please please, Sokka, please.”  Zuko repeats the breathy whines, pleading and staring, before finally raising his golden eyes to meet the blue ones above him.  “Please let me suck your cock, Sokka, please let me taste you, please touch me, feel me, fill me.  Oh god, Sokka, I need you so much, I need you right now, please fuck me, fuck me, please please please.”  Zuko is begging, almost crying; eyes red-rimmed and shining.  “Please,” he breathes a final time, his gaze returning to Sokka’s erection.

“Shit,” Sokka chokes. Zuko can see the twitch of his cock through the tight material, and it makes the corners of his mouth twitch a little; knowing his filthy begging is effecting Sokka.  . 

Zuko’s dick was aching; hard and heavy, constant flow of pre-cum leaking between his legs. The last thing he wanted right now was gentle contact.  He wanted Sokka to fill his mouth, choke him with his size. He wanted Sokka’s hands to hold him in place as Sokka brutally pounded into him; thrusts quick and deep, hitting just right every time.  He wanted Sokka to make him come in the most physical and obscene ways he could imagine.  He wasn’t allowed to come near Sokka without permission no matter how desperate, or frustrated he became.  Zuko, in all honesty, could probably climax under a single perfect stroke of Sokka’s hand.  Zuko could feel Sokka’s stare; its weight forcing him to look away from the mouth-watering bulge, and into his deep blue eyes. Zuko’s breaths began to steady with Sokka’s heat and presence—until he stepped out from reach

Zuko didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was sure this happened not too long ago. His mind was hazy with desire and those damn phantom touches were coming back as his hopes were raised and killed once more.  He was on the verge of a breaking point, but he didn’t know or understand what would break or shatter.  He thought his sanity would be at risk, but Sokka returned, behind him once more. Though this pleased Zuko, he still wanted to engulf Sokka; taste him and smell him, to suck and swallow what he could.

Sokka’s hands brushed against the shirt gathered about his wrists, rubbing gently at his forearms, whispering praise, love, and compliments in his ears and across his back.  worked him back down, calming and soothing, as he undid the belt, and removed the wrinkled wet shirt.  When the bonds were gone, Sokka returned to crouch in front of Zuko.  He took each arm, one at a time, and kissed his way up, from hand to elbow, and back down.  He did this until Zuko’s breathing began to stabilize again; until his mind was less muddled.  Finally, Sokka stepped back once more.

“How are you?” Blue eyes assessed Zuko, even as the voice Sokka questioned with was light.

Zuko shrugged slightly from his place on the floor.  “I’m fine.  But I’d be a hell of a lot better if you got over here are let me blow you, you bastard.”  Zuko focused on meeting Sokka’s eyes, on keeping his voice even, on not reaching down and grabbing himself before he even had the chance to touch Sokka or before Sokka had the chance to touch him.

Sokka smiled down at him and very deliberately undid the button of his suit pants.  The sound of the zipper sliding seemed to echo in Zuko’s ears, and suddenly he was as frenzied as before, his breath and pulse speeding up without thought or warning.  Sokka pulled himself free of the cotton of his boxers, pulling the waistband low under his balls.  Sokka watched his eyes and face as Zuko followed the motion of his hand stroking his cock; pumping and spreading pearly beads down his shaft by his dark fingers.  Zuko felt his mouth go dry, as if this were the first time he had ever seen Sokka stroke himself, his thumb pausing to twirl and press at the head, the slight twist of his wrist as he reached the base. Zuko wanted it in him, in his mouth, in his ass—anywhere he could have it, as long as it was right now.

“Zuko,” Sokka whispered, the same way he said it before he came, and Zuko’s eyes widened.  He stared at Sokka as the man released his hold on his dick.  “Would you like your reward?”  Sokka reached his hand, the one that he had just used to stroke himself, towards Zuko.  Zuko caught one finger in his mouth and sucked, licking what little taste he could from Sokka’s finger.

“More,” Zuko murmured, crawling forwards on shaking hands and feet to press his face into Sokka’s crotch, nose pressed between the base of Sokka’s erection and the joint of his thigh.  Zuko breathed in, his nose prickling with Sokka’s scent, Sokka’s heat, and the slight damp of the area.  When he released his breath, the curls around his nose bent, causing Sokka to twitch.  He inched his lips closer to Sokka’s cock, his nose brushing across sensitive skin, causing Sokka to shudder.  Finally, he reached his goal.

Zuko placed a chaste peck on the base of Sokka’s hardness.  The skin was warm and moist, and Zuko nosed into it, trying to fill his senses with it before he pulled away slightly.  Even as he pulled away, he allowed himself to brush soft touches of his cheek, nose, and lips against his sensitive skin.  It was almost like revenge, but much sweeter—it was love.  When Zuko reached the head of Sokka’s cock, he gave it another chaste peck, before he opened his lips around it.  He slid his mouth over the head, running his tongue across it, pressing the tip of it against Sokka’s urethra, swirling it against the smooth head and sides as he bobbed forward, taking more into his mouth.

Zuko hollowed his cheeks, licking and sucking, rocking on his hands and knees, as he opened his mouth wider, working to fit more of Sokka into himself.  He relaxed his throat, moving forward with a calm and assurance that belied the throbbing and dripping of his cock between his legs and the pulsing and twitching of his asshole.  Finally, finally, finally, he was able to swallow Sokka’s dick, his nose almost pressing against the curls below Sokka’s navel.  Zuko could feel Sokka’s hips twitching, the spasms travelling through his thighs, as he held himself back from thrusting into the warmth and wet of Zuko’s mouth and throat.  Sokka gripped Zuko’s shoulders to steady himself from the intense pleasure; leaving behind bright finger impressions. His hands ran up Zuko’s neck, running over his face as he tucked strands of hair back in place before being perfectly wrapped in his ebony tresses. The firm caresses elicited a vibrant moan from his lover’s throat.  The vibrations of it shook Sokka, and he thrust once, quick and shallow, before he could hold himself still—but that was what Zuko wanted, for Sokka to thrust into him, however he liked, and the pleased sounds that escaped Zuko set them both on fire.

Sokka shoved Zuko’s face a little, his warning rushed and jumbled, before he began to thrust forward.  Zuko held his mouth open and throat relaxed; taking in quick breaths through his nose, angling his head this way and that, being careful of his teeth and his tongue until Sokka slowed again, allowing Zuko to retake control.  Zuko stilled, Sokka’s cock heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth, breathing deeply and ensuring that he could continue.  His throat felt raw and his lips felt stretched, but neither to the point that he couldn’t continue for just a little longer.  This was his reward, after all; waste not, want not—and he did not want to waste a second of his time with Sokka hard and aching in his mouth.

Zuko resumed his ministrations, tongue gliding, cheeks hollowed, pulling and popping and bobbing, teasing the head and tip and foreskin.  Zuko took him deep two more times, savouring the slow drag to the back of his throat, the taste, smell, and feel across his tongue and the roof of his mouth.  He knew he was too raw already, and there was more left to do with a cock in his mouth, so he pulled back, releasing Sokka with a wet _pop_ , a trail of spit connecting his bottom lip to the tip of Sokka’s member.  Zuko raised his eyes to meet Sokka’s, his lust and desire reflected _everything_ in the blue eyes watching him in half-lidded amazement.

“More?” Sokka questioned, his eyes glinting.  Zuko’s hips were shaking and thrusting against the air again, his cock bouncing with each thrust, and still leaking; pre-cum dripping and pooling on the floor beneath him. How had he not come yet?  Zuko couldn’t even think about his own need until he was satisfied, and that blow job had hardly cut it.

“More,” Zuko repeated, before quickly taking Sokka back into his mouth.  He urgently rubbed, jerked, and twisted with one hand at the base of Sokka’s erection; pressing the head into the sides of his mouth, sloppily sucking and licking at the head and tip, shoving as much of it as he could fit in his mouth.  Zuko shuffled forward so he knelt before Sokka, one hand on the other man’s dick, the other clutching the back of Sokka’s thigh to keep him steady, even as his legs wobbled and trembled and his cock ached and wept.

Zuko continued at his merciless pace until Sokka began to pant and babble,  whispering his name in that _way_ he had, at which point Zuko quickly backed off, following the directions of Sokka’s hands twisted in his hair, pulling his face off his groin.  Zuko panted, inches from Sokka’s glistening cock; slicked in pre-come and saliva. Zuko wanted to swallow it again—force Sokka to come in his mouth so he can taste everything as it poured in and down his throat.  Zuko gulped, lips wet and parted, restrained only by Sokka’s firm hands, as the other man panted above him.

“If I come before you do,” Sokka warned, focusing on Zuko’s face, Zuko’s eyes, “then you’ll only get fingers in your ass.  If you can live with that, you can keep going.”  With that, Sokka released his grip on Zuko’s head, allowing him to decide.

Zuko sat on the floor, calves tucked under him, thighs spread wide, so close to coming, and all he could think was how badly he wanted Sokka inside him.  He didn’t care if it was his mouth or his ass—but even as he weighed his options, his opening twitched and pulsed. He wanted to be filled and be wrapped around Sokka.  He met Sokka’s deep blue eyes peering down at him and then stood, legs weak and wobbly. He returned to his desk, bent over, chest pressed flat to its surface, hips raised, thighs spread, and arms extended; bracing himself for what was in store for him. By the way his ass was shaking, it was obvious he was he excited.

Zuko could hear Sokka groan and feel him stumble over.  Sokka’s hands held firmly onto Zuko’s hips momentarily before abandoning their grasp. Zuko was prepared for the feeling of wet fingers breaching the tight ring of muscle; he was not prepared for the sensation of Sokka’s tongue lapping over his opening as it pushed its way inside him.  Zuko had to press his lips into his arm to muffle his scream, channelling his concentration not to come on the spot—as much as he was aching to come, he wanted it to be when he was filled to the brim, not when Sokka’s tongue teased to open and stretch him wider.  He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting, back arching, trying to force Sokka’s intrusion deeper, to feel that wet heat and warm tongue farther inside.  Sokka complied with his needy lover, who stilled the licking to force and _deepen_ his tongue fucking Zuko’s tight end. Zuko sighed in relief, whining and wanting him to add his fingers—he craved for the single thrust which would break him down, relishing in waves of pleasure. He was keening, helpless, and so, so _loud_.  Zuko whipped his head around to watch Sokka eat him out, making his breathing ragged at the very sight. The sounds he had made still echoed through his ears, and what had Sokka even _done_ —but Sokka resumed his licking along with a circling finger tracing his rim; slowly and carefully to pry him loose; preparing him to take Sokka with little resistance in a single thrust.

Zuko’s relaxation grew steadily despite how his throbbing cock continued to seep pearly beads with every twitch caused by Sokka’s thrusting digits.  Zuko panted and moaned over the feel of those three fingers sliding easily in and out of him, sighing as Sokka’s lips and tongue traced his lower back and hips.  Zuko expected to feel Sokka’s erection against him when he pulled away; to feel that slick hardness against his cleft and sliding into his hole. Instead, Sokka’s lips returned to kiss Zuko’s entrance, repeatedly dragging his tongue over, swirling and burying it in his tight heat.  Zuko thrust wildly in a matter of seconds—whining for Sokka to “stop being a fucking tease and just fucking fuck me already, you goddamn fucker.” He needed him **now** —right this second. Ten minutes ago, hours ago, forever, please just _hurry up and put your big fat cock in me_.  But Sokka just laughed, and Zuko could feel the snort and breath of it against his ass. It was equally strange and erotic. But god, oh god he was in so fucking deep. How could Sokka’s tongue even reach there? However he managed to do it, it left Zuko writhing; pushing back and humping the air to seek more stimuli. This has to be the worst state he has ever been in so far—

Then Sokka did _that thing_ again, making Zuko cry out as his body convulsed as he came all over the inside of his desk and floor. His body slumped heavily against the desk as waves of relief washed over him from his sudden orgasm. The torturous build-up, and many close calls, made Zuko almost swear he had faded in and out momentarily.  He came back to reality after hardly a full second, aftershocks still racking his frame as Sokka continued to lick, thrust, and _devour_ his ass. It was as if he didn’t recognize that Zuko just had one of the biggest, best, longest, hardest orgasms of his entire life mere seconds ago. 

Sokka was gentle and soothing with how warm and wet he was inside him as his hands rubbed light circles overs his hips and back and thighs. The way his tongue swooped in, over, and out still pushed Zuko into overstimulation, almost making his oversensitivity just bearable.  His throat felt broken from the shout of his release, he had no strength left to support himself; still shaking and trembling and shuddering with aftershocks occasionally jerking him. Zuko heard what he thought was Sokka muffling something with his mouth pressed to Zuko’s entrance, his tongue still buried inside.

“What?”  Zuko groaned, trying to turn his head, to peer at Sokka.  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.  Didn’t your Grangran teach you any manners?”

Sokka spluttered, quickly pulling his face out from between Zuko’s cheeks.  “First of all,” he glared at Zuko, “don’t you know better than to talk about Grangran during sex?  How would you feel if I suddenly mentioned Uncle Iroh when you have a raging hard on?  Seriously, think a little.”  Zuko opened his mouth to protest, to offer that he wasn’t trying to kill Sokka’s mood, because he sure as hell didn’t want to after an orgasm like that. Sokka continued, “I was asking if you liked that?  By that, I mean, did you like being eaten out?  Did you like it?”  Sokka’s blue eyes shone with hope, and Zuko flopped back onto the desk with a sigh.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “it was pretty damn amazing.  What were you even _doing_ down there?  Not the licking, the other thing?”

Sokka snorted.  “That’s when I sucked.  I’ve gotta say though, I had no idea that’d make you come.  I just liked the noises you made the first time I did it.”  Zuko chuckled as well, muttering under his breath.  “Pardon?”  Sokka asked, but Zuko just shook his head.  No way was he repeating that stupid comment— _I like those noises too; I wonder if you can make them?_ —the last thing he needed was to make Sokka think another round, reversed, was the plan.  “So, can I put it in?”  Sokka asked conversationally.  Zuko just sighed and nodded.  The aftershocks were all done, the peak of the oversensitivity had passed. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time that the pair of them had pushed through oversensitivity, and they tended to have fun with it.  “Thanks, babe,” Sokka breathed, pressing soft kisses into his hair.

“You know I love you; let’s get on with it—I don’t want to be in these clothes at the sentencing.”  Zuko muttered, cheeks burning with the admission.  It wasn’t the first time he’d told Sokka he loves him; it was well past the hundredth, the thousandth time even, but it never stopped making him blush, make the butterflies swarm, and the blood rush to his head.  But when Sokka leaned down and placed firm, open-mouthed kisses up his spine, Zuko felt his blood begin to rush elsewhere.

Sokka returned to licking his way into Zuko’s ass, spreading his hole wide with three fingers, moving in and out quickly, making Zuko an overstimulated wreck again.  Sokka stood to reach forward and gently turned Zuko over onto his back; flat against the desk, his legs draped over one of Sokka’s hips, the other cradled in one of his elbows.  Facing each other, Sokka lined himself up, settled, and looked to Zuko for confirmation.  Zuko nodded once, taking a deep breath and relaxing on the exhale.  In that one moment, when Zuko was perfectly relaxed, soft and pliant, Sokka pushed himself in all the way to the hilt in a single fluid thrust.

Zuko’s cry died in his throat, his gasp chased and swallowed by Sokka’s lips as they pressed against each other.  This was how Sokka preferred to have sex with him—to look at his face, to meet his eyes, to kiss him with every deep thrust; to hold him close, stroke his hair, gaze at him with love and ardour, and all that sappy, romantic crap.  And, honestly, this is how Zuko liked it best too; this was making love, and it only happened, had only ever happened, with Sokka.  He looked past Zuko’s family status, money, drama, and scars, and only saw Zuko as he was, and he loved him for it.  Zuko was able to see that love in Sokka’s eyes, it was practically written on Sokka’s face; as well as in the words he spoke, in the tone of his voice, in _how he called his name_. It was so amazing, so wonderful—blissful even—and every time they had sex like this, Zuko ended up crying.  Not big tears of orgasm, but quiet tears of joy, peace, and little bit of heartbreak. Because there is always heartbreak in having to wait until you’re an adult to understand that you have a right to be loved by others; there is always a bit of heartbreak in having to look for confirmation of Sokka’s love every time they have sex, as if it weren’t freely shown and given at every occasion.

Sokka’s thrusts were deep and erratic. All Zuko could do was try hold on and keep up, even as the oversensitivity blinded him and his spent cock hardened and ached again.  Sokka engulfed Zuko with his sensual touches by his smooth hands and closed in body movements. He couldn’t sense anything outside of Sokka—Sokka surrounded and consumed him, and Zuko couldn’t live without it for a second.  They were panting and gasping, unfinished phrases and unformed thoughts died on their tongues and floated above them in the thick, moist air they created.  Then Sokka chanted his name in that way: “ _Zuko, Zuko, Zukozukozuko_ —” and a hot, wet sensation pooled in Zuko as Sokka came inside him.  The feeling of Sokka coming inside him, the tension he built by calling Zuko’s name, the soft kisses he pressed thoughtlessly on any and every part of Zuko he could reach, even as he collapsed in exhaustion and while rocking with aftershocks, all sent Zuko over the steep edge that been building. He came dry, shuddering with Sokka’s name slipping between his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are more than welcome--they are highly appreciated!  
> I'm on [tumblr](ahhhnorealnamesallowed.tumblr.com) and my ask is open, if you want to message me there :)  
> Thanks for reading!!


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